PAINTED WORLD OF ARIAMIS
"Beatrice!"
Siegmeyer's voice rang out through the canyon. Silence followed as the trio tried to adjust to the transition from a pleasant summer evening to biting winter night. Fortunately, the wind was still, so the only sound was the creaking of the ancient wooden bridge beneath them. Lex sighed and scratched the back of his head.
"Well, it's unfortunate that she's not with us, but she's in no danger in sunlit Anor Londo. She knows where the bonfire is, and there aren't any enemies between it and the painting. I think even she'll have trouble with Abbott and Costello, so I don't think we'll come back to a worst-case scenario."
Oscar turned to look back the way they had come, but much of the bridge was out.
"It doesn't look like there's a way back at all."
"You have to go all the way through," Lex complained. "Every time. This is the Painted World of Ariamis, where the gods sealed away the things they most feared. Victims of the Blight, forbidden pyromancies, Undead dragons, the Occult ember, and most of Velka's stuff."
"Hm. Why are we here then?" Siegmeyer said with a nervous edge to his voice. "Do we need to recover something Slaanesh sealed?"
"Well, most of the gods are gone anyway, so I don't think they'd mind if we set a few prisoners free. One of them, I'm honestly just curious about. The other might actually be a huge help. This prison was actually originally constructed for the sole purpose of sealing her. Everything else got thrown in later because it was convenient."
"And freeing this prisoner is a good idea?" Oscar said flatly.
"Sure! Can't be any worse than the eternal recurrence of Undeath."
The knight just sighed, so Lex began his hesitant journey across the bridge. He faltered toward the end, where it had been clumsily repaired, but he grasped the ropes on other side tightly and hurried to solid ground. The mountainside was mostly impassable, but a long staircase was hewn into the living stone. Lex ascended carefully to avoid slipping on the snow-covered steps, the knights following in kind. The first landing was cluttered with debris – fallen rocks and branches.
The cleric stepped around and continued up the next flight, trying not to look at a standing arrangement of crude wooden pikes with hollows impaled upon them. He continued to the next landing and was climbing over some fallen logs when he looked back to see that Siegmeyer had stopped to look at the gruesome display.
"Lex, who were these men?"
"Don't know," he replied somberly. "They were probably put up as a warning, but by the gods or by later trespassers like us, I can't say. There's, uh, a lot more of them. You'll get used to it."
"No," Siegmeyer said. "I don't think I will."
They continued up the next flight in silence. There was a tight squeeze where the stone hadn't been cut away enough, but Siegmeyer didn't have it in him to joke about his weight. At the top of the stairs was a sloping ground. There was a bonfire, but more hollows hung impaled behind it, a common crow resting atop one of the spits. They all approached the fire to attune to it but then continued up the last staircase through the outer wall of the fortress.
There was a gate directly ahead, but it was closed, and a feral hollow loitered in front of it. Lex gestured to the right, where two feral hollows stumbled toward them. He and Oscar rushed to intercept them while Siegmeyer was left to deal with the one in front. One of the hollows had come from another staircase leading to the parapet above it. Beyond that was another staircase leading onto the inner walls the fortress proper.
A feral hollow with a bow shot at Lex as he approached, but he sidestepped and jumped up the stairs to stab it before it could fire again. Another hollow approached in his peripheral vision, so he swung backward, hacking through this one as well. A third limply jogged toward him, but he hopped off the stairs and out of Oscar's way, letting the knight take care of it. Another archer shot at him from atop yet another flight of stairs at the end of the platform, but he ignored it, simply taking a step alternately to the left or the right whenever it shot while he waited for Siegmeyer to catch up. He looked over the side of the wall.
The walls themselves were topped with jagged iron spikes – in setting, to prevent them from being climbed, but actually to keep Player Characters from jumping over them. The cleric rubbed his chin as he sidestepped another arrow.
"Actually, you guys head back down to the gate. I think I can open it by myself. It's locked from the outside, and normally you have to go through the entire thing just to get to the ground floor, but I can probably reach it from here."
With that, he slipped one leg between the spikes before crouching down to straddle the wall. Oscar blocked an arrow with his shield as Lex carefully pulled his other leg over and let himself fall to the floor below. The wall around this level had a gaping hole in it, so he simply jumped to the snow-covered courtyard below. This drop was fairly far, and when he hit the bottom, he collapsed and hugged his aching shins. He took a deep breath while he listened to the knights descend the stairs again.
After a moment, he rose and climbed the short steps to the gate. He fumbled at the sturdy plank holding it shut, the wetness of the snow causing the wood to swell and fit tighter in place even as it rotted. With one last pull and an animal grunt, he yanked it out of place and kicked the double door open. The knights were already waiting for him on the other side, and they scanned the courtyard as they entered.
There were a great deal more impaled hollows, crows cawing mockingly from atop the spikes. Headstones were scattered throughout the yard in the most unlikely places, but there were fewer trees than might be expected. Directly ahead were concrete cubes with chains hanging limply from their sides and in front of them, a strange bald spot in the snow. In the center of the courtyard and slightly to the left was a statue on a pedestal. It depicted a woman in robes comforting a small child, and living crows were perched on her shoulders.
Surrounding the statue was a wall of horrifying monstrosities. They had been hollows once, but their torsos had twisted and bulged into a fleshy mass that moved like a slug. Their legs dragged behind them uselessly, and their lopsided arms held a spear and shield. Additional spears jutted out of their backs, the points deep within the mounds of flesh.
"I think I may be ill," Siegmeyer said, swallowing.
"Just try not to think about it," Lex replied, cringing. "I had to do that in Blighttown with the cragspiders. I can't decide which is worse." He paused. "We are actually going this way, though," he said, pointing to the right.
When they turned, there was a wide staircase leading down to a sloping field of impaled hollows and the concrete blocks. Some of them could be seen for what they were from this angle – tiny cells which held prisoners for delivery to the Painted World. Much of the snow here was patchy without any obvious reason. A pair of feral hollows with torches bumbled toward the group, but Lex and Oscar cut them down carefully, before they could set anyone alight.
"Okay guys," Lex started, "remember how we tried to capture Kirk?"
"Yes," Oscar replied hesitantly.
"Let's try not to mess it up this time."
Oscar groaned.
"What serial killer are we supposed to capture without harming this time?"
"Xanthous King Jeremiah."
"Who? I have never heard of the land of Xanthous."
"I have no idea."
"Oho!" Siegmeyer interrupted. "Xanthous is not a country; it is a color!"
"Yeah. King in Yellow. Terrible reference. Japan. Tentacles. Et cetera. We need to capture him for two reasons. First, he may have some connection with Izalith, which could score me points with Quelaag."
Oscar groaned even more loudly.
"Second, he seems to be acquainted with that other prisoner we're here to break out. He doesn't show his face if we go for her first, though. Well, he doesn't show his face at all, but that's beside the point. From what everyone's been saying about Velka, the more allies we have, the better."
"A noble sentiment," Siegmeyer said, nodding.
"Right, so this fight's not going to be as difficult as Kirk's. Jeremiah is pretty crap at fighting proper. He uses a spiked whip, which won't really even hurt either of you. The problem is that he's a master pyromancer with secret Chaos pyromancies. We'll see if we can't talk first, but if you see him try to cast, break his arm before he kills us all."
"Seems simple enough," Oscar said, "but so did the last time."
"If you can block his movement, I should have no problem with the breaking," Siegmeyer murmured. "I don't want to linger here if it can be helped."
"Cool. I'll lure him out then."
Lex walked down the left side of the field. He waited for a few seconds, and another pair of feral hollows wandered toward him. He hacked through them with a single swing and looked around. Another torchbearer was slowly making its way toward him. After dispatching it, he continued to the end of the slope, where the field fell off to a sheer cliff.
"Lex! Here he comes!" Oscar shouted.
The cleric hurried back up as the two knights closed in on the red-black figure from behind. The King was woefully underdressed for the environment, his tight tunic leaving his rippling midriff visible, and his skirt teasingly short. Rather than wearing shoes, his feet were wrapped in the same material as his clothes. Of course, the strangest part of the outfit was his so-called crown, a long wrap that covered his face and continued spiraling upward to form a sort of lump. As soon as his phantom had exited the rift between worlds, he rolled away before the duo could grab him, lashing out defensively with his thorned whip. Immediately afterward, he did a backflip just in time to avoid Lex's bass cannon.
"By the gods, have you no shame!" Siegmeyer shouted in disgust.
"What?" Lex asked offhandedly, readying his sword.
"Not you! This vulgar exhibitionist!"
"The headdress isn't compensating for anything," Oscar explained.
"Well," the cleric said, unable to finish a response.
The invader took a low stance, ready to lash out in either direction. Oscar and Siegmeyer recovered their composure and put some space between them to avoid getting caught in the blast of the same pyromancy while Lex stood his ground, sword tensed and talisman in hand.
"Xanthous King Jeremiah," he said slowly, "are you still sane?"
"What doth such a word mean in these days of madness?" the King replied, his voice old and bitter.
Lex relaxed, hanging his talisman on his belt and sheathing his sword. Oscar and Siegmeyer opted to remain cautious, and the former moved closer to the cleric just in case.
"I am Lex of Luthor, Prophet of Slaanesh. My powers show me your name and your power but not your history. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions? I'm sure we can think of some means of repayment if you want."
The old man scoffed.
"An agent of Anor Londo, late and uninformed as ever. Very well then. If thou vowest thy purpose is true, then I shall endeavor to enlighten thee."
"Right. Straight to the point, then. It's unusual but not unexpected for someone to learn Chaos pyromancies before reaching Anor Londo. How is it, though, that you know Chaos Fire Whip?"
"Thy knowledge is strange. Dost thou not knowest of mine exile?"
Lex shrugged.
"When I said I know your name, I meant I literally know your name. I don't even know what you're king of. I do know that Chaos Fire Whip is the signature technique of a certain witch, which is why I'm wondering exactly how you know it."
"Indulgest first a question of mine own. What is thy mission, that the god did not see fit to informeth thee of mine history?"
"My goddess looks first to her own amusement. I'm trying to fulfill the totally bogus Prophecy of the Chosen Undead because she gets off on watching dudes set themselves on fire. My personal reasons are more along the lines of, 'well, someone has to do it.'"
"And thou asked if I were mad," the old King grumbled. "I am the Xanthous King, who fledeth in fear when catastrophe felleth upon his nation. In the time before, I was Jeremiah, King-Consort of Izalith. The Witch's Daughters were hers alone, but the first taughteth me the ways of combat so that I might not shame them among the Kings of other lands."
Lex bobbed his head back and forth, thinking the story over.
"Hey guys, you probably know more about this than I do. Does it check out?"
Oscar shrugged.
"I was not fond of ancient history. As the first son, most of my education was about Astora's own politics. When it wasn't military matters, I mean."
"Hmmm…" Siegmeyer began, resting his sword on the ground. "Oscar is right. I've read a few different versions of the fall of Izalith. I think one did mention a king, but I can't remember anything specific about him. He was more of a footnote, if I recall."
"To be forgotten is more than I deserve," Jeremiah said coldly.
"Right," Lex said, uncaring, "time for plan B." He raised his hand and began speaking into it out loud, "Hey Quelaag! I think I found your dad, maybe."
The back of his neck didn't buzz like usual, and the Chaos Witch's voice never materialized inside his mind.
"Thou hast a Widow's Ring?" Jeremiah said, perking up.
"Uh, yes. I don't think it's working, though."
"That is a consequence of this prison," the King said quickly. "It seals all powers so that their danger might not seep into Anor Londo beyond. But thou sayest bold Quelaag doth live?"
"Yeah. And Quelara and Quelana and Quelaav and, uh, I don't know the brother's name."
"They-" Jeremiah began, his voice cracking. "Brother?"
"Yeah. Big huge terrifying lava monster. Not sure he can talk, but he seems a gentle giant. Just kind of guards the Demon Ruins for all eternity."
"My…my child…my…son."
Jeremiah had kept up his guard, but now he went limp.
"Before…the accident, Quel had…usedeth her magic to find a way to carry my child. When it happened, I…I thought…"
Siegmeyer had removed his helmet and put aside his sword. Before Oscar or Lex noticed, he approached the phantom, putting a hand on the King's shoulder.
"It's okay, my friend. Let it all out."